


Her (Atua's) Truth (Lie)

by orphan_account



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Delusions, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Religion, but a little bit heightened, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Angie gripped onto her guest’s wrist, dagger finding its way to her heart. “So you’ll help, right? He’d be very grateful. Might even grant you an eternity in the afterlife, right by his side! Wouldn’t that be nice?”Her friend’s body was her palette, her blood was her paint, and the floor was her canvas.
Relationships: Kamisama | Atua & Yonaga Angie, Yonaga Angie & Yumeno Himiko
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Her (Atua's) Truth (Lie)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not all that happy with this, but I got this idea and wanted to get it off my chest, so here you go!  
> Please enjoy the fanfiction for what it's worth.
> 
> T/W: THIS HAS STUFF ABOUT MURDER AND MANIPULATION DUE TO RELIGION. THE MURDER ISN’T TOO GRAPHIC, BUT IT’S IMPLIED TO BE VERY, VERY GRAPHIC. KN/VES ARE REFERENCED. B/OOD IS USED. PENTAGRAM IS USED. DO NOT READ IT IF YOU ARE QUEASY.

The world was a dark place. It had been since Angie’s sister’s death, had been since she’d been denied from art school, had been since she was told that she was dying.

Just because the world was dark didn’t mean she had to be, though.

Atua was her light, her life. He had been there when everybody else refused to be; he had seen her at her worst, her best, and yet he stayed. Angie loved him with everything she had. Surely if her classmates knew of the joy he brought to the world, they’d worship him, too.

Angie prepared her candles, knives, and paint brushes, setting them on her desk in the order Atua liked most. _It was for him_ , she reminded herself.

Wax dripped at her feet, her own blood pooled in a mini jar, and the full moon leaked into Korekiyo’s dorm room. He was hiding away in his research lab, completely unaware of the beautiful ritual about to take place. _He’d have enjoyed to take part in this,_ she mused, shaking her blood out of the glass and onto a thick piece of paper. _Too bad he’ll never get the chance._

This was her resolve, her truth; _Atua_ was her truth. She was no Kokichi; her life was led only by the facts, never by deceit. This was what Atua wanted, so this is what he would get.

The blood stained the black ink that spelled out the name she’d long-since familiarized herself with; Himiko Yumeno.

It was a pity, really. Maybe if she’d prayed a little more, showed her appreciation a little more genuinely, she’d have survived. _That isn’t my problem, though,_ Angie thought to herself giddily, slamming the book of spells she’d stolen over the paper.

There was a knocking at the door, soft and hesitant. Angie hopped over a few scattered textbooks and daggers, ramming open the door.

“You came!” She exclaimed, widening the door to allow her guest in.

Himiko furrowed her eyebrows, sitting down on Korekiyo’s bed. “Why are we here? Where’s Shinguji?”

“He’s unavailable right now,” she replied, locking the door behind her and making her way to the line-up of supplies. “I called you here because Atua needs your help with something.”

Her guest straightened up almost immediately, “what does he need?”

Angie twirled a dagger around in her hand and smiled, “he needs justice!” She walked a few steps closer, careful not to step on anything. “You see, there are still so many people who don’t understand Atua’s greatness. He needs to be recognized worldwide, but that isn’t possible if his very own vessel is stuck here.”

Himiko’s eyes flicked from Angie’s grin to the dagger in her hand, backing up by just a little. _That’s no good,_ Atua whispered to her.

Angie gripped onto her guest’s wrist, dagger finding its way to her heart. “So you’ll help, right? He’d be very grateful. Might even grant you an eternity in the afterlife, right by his side! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Himiko opened her mouth, probably to speak ( _to consent_ , Atua informed Angie), but before she could, the dagger was rammed into her chest. Then again, and again, and again.

Blood poured to Himiko’s lap, legs, shoes. It stained her clothes, her skin, and Angie just kept stabbing. “Thank you, Himiko!” She giggled, spare hand tightening on her friend’s wrist, “I knew you’d understand. Atua just wants what’s best for us!”

Himiko didn’t respond; she couldn’t if she wanted to (which she didn’t). Angie dragged her body to the center of the room and got to work. Her friend’s body was her palette, her blood was her paint, and the floor was her canvas.

Atua guided her hand across the floorboards, forming a pentagram, packed with details, numerals, and tiny lines. _This is for Atua,_ she reassured herself again. There were tears bubbling at her eyes by the end, the smell of death being hard to handle.

Everything she did was for Atua. Every prayer, every gift, was like a building block, towering higher and higher to the heavens.

Himiko was a tower, too, full of good intentions. They were both made up of building blocks, only created to serve Atua and then die at his hand.

The difference between them?

Angie’s tower of prayers wouldn’t come tumbling to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the fic, despite how short and kind of shitty it is. I just suddenly got the idea 'what if Angie killed Himiko for "Atua's sake"' and had to write it immediately.  
> I might rewrite this later so it's actually decent, but don't get your hopes up.  
> If you're interested in looking at more of my stuff, go ahead and check out my tumblr (xxxbookaholic)! All of my fanfictions are posted on AO3 as well, though.  
> Please consider leaving a comment. It keeps me writing.  
> Have a nice rest of your day/night.


End file.
